Summer in Toronto means everyone (myself included) goes apeshit over patios. After a long, dreary winter, we want to get in as much outside time as possible (while still drinking). Being lazy and somewhat cheap, I prefer to buy a bottle of wine or three and settle down on my stoop. I’m not just talking about a set of stairs and an alcove; my stoop is a magical place. I live on a street in The Village with a lot of foot traffic (and a lot of those feet are wearing size 11 sparkly 4-inch platform stilettos), which means a lot of excellent people watching. Between the tourists, hammered 905 girls going to the drag show for their ‘scandalous bachelorettes,’ leather daddies, ladies of the night, men cruising in their IROC Camaros, and friendly groups of people on their way to or from their next party, my fellow stoopers and I are thoroughly entertained.
I hadn’t realized how much of a fixture the stoop gatherings have become (I’ve had friends over for drinks on the stoop more evenings than not over the past two weeks) until the a guy from a bar up the street made a comment about me ‘coming out like clockwork for my smoke breaks.’ I told him I don’t smoke, and he asked what I was doing. Um, drinking, obvs.
I grabbed a slice of pizza for lunch yesterday, and the guy behind the counter had all sorts of questions about how we can drink there without getting in trouble (he apparently saw us more than once on his way to work over the weekend). Fun fact: sometimes the cops even stop by for a chat between calls for ODs at the bathhouse and a naked man running around Jarvis. Since I’m friends with said cops, it’s even funnier when they pull up all lights and sirens, making everyone in the direct vicinity shit their pants with sheer delight about watching something go down (and then audibly sigh with disappointment when I’m greeted with a hug instead of handcuffs).
Last night the stoop became part of my dating lifewhen a brave Tindude™ opted to join us for a beer. For our first meeting. It was a bit odd playing the ‘get to know you’ game while my friends were right there, but it was a refreshing and much-needed change and he handled it like a champ. He called it a ‘tiny little weeknight adventure,’ a turn of phrase I a) love, and b) told him I was going to steal. We’re going to see each other one-on-one next time, and we have ideas for all sorts of TLWAs (a personal favourite: hipster Bingo at Trinity Bellwoods Park, featuring squares for slacklining, PBR drinking, and mom jorts). Who says dating in Toronto isn’t fun?
So this summer, if you find yourself wandering the streets and come upon a group of happy weirdos (or just me) getting stoopid, stop and say hi. We won’t bite, and we might even share our beer.